Spring in Snow Valley

by Cindy Roland Anderson

  His hand had briefly tightened over hers. Was it muscle twitches or had he really been trying to communicate? She didn’t know and he slipped away several minutes later, finally at peace.

  And now, they would hopefully, finally, have closure.

  “Call me anytime.” Pastor John gave her arm a squeeze. “I can meet you at the ranch on a moment’s notice, if you want me there.”

  She thanked him and moved outside, needing some sunshine on her face, some warmth to take away the coldness of death.

  Someone’s prayers were being heard, because Anoria came out of the church a few minutes later. “I just got a text from Colby. He heard from Wade, and they said it’s fine if you wanted to scatter Dad’s ashes at the farm. Colby said to come by anytime.”

  Relief coursed through Cynthia and tears sprang to her eyes. She hadn’t known it would mean this much, until it did. “Go find Jackson,” she instructed Anoria. “I’ll speak to Pastor John.”

  ***

  Colby was grateful for the excuse of the memorial to leave his mother’s birthday party early. Family gatherings were always painful since the divorce, especially when he didn’t have Lily. Watching his brothers and sisters with their growing families was a stark reminder of what he was missing.

  He saw Cynthia’s car coming up the road from the window of his apartment above the stable. He ran a wet comb through his dark hair, then loped down the stairs to meet them as they pulled into the large graveled area between the farmhouse and the stables.

  Cynthia stepped out of the car. Her skirt ended a few inches above the knee and her boots ended a few inches below the knee. The flash of skin between them made Colby’s pulse jump. He grinned like an idiot and hurried forward, then remembered why they were here and lurched to a more decorous speed. Pastor John pulled up in his green Range Rover, followed by Lisa and her family in a minivan.

  “Hi Colby, I got your text. Thanks so much for letting us come.” Anoria came forward, beaming.

  “It wasn’t me; Wade’s the one you should be thanking,” Colby’s eyes darted back to Cynthia. For the first time, he noticed the urn she held gently to her chest.

  “It doesn’t look anything like it did when we lived here,” Cynthia murmured, her gaze traveling over the stable and the farmhouse. “I’m so glad he left the trees.” She gave the large trees shading the house a fond look and turned to Colby. “Thank you so much, Colby. I can’t even say how much I appreciate this.”

  His name on her lips sounded so deliciously personal. He forced himself to focus on the urn. “Um ... where did you want to ...” He waved his hand around the yard.

  She wrinkled her brow and turned in a circle, evaluating the surroundings, and finally pointed to a spot farther up the hill, where a small ridge overlooked the valley. “Would that be okay?”

  “I think it’s perfect, Mom,” Jackson answered so Colby didn’t have to.

  Cynthia and Pastor John led the way, and Colby lagged behind, unsure if he should wait for them in the yard. Anoria started after her mother, but stopped suddenly and turned. “Come on, Colby.” She smiled, extending her hand.

  He pretended not to see her outstretched hand as he caught up to her, keeping a good distance between them. Anoria immediately began peppering him with personal questions, which he answered as briefly as possible. It didn’t seem like the appropriate time to be discussing where he went to college and what sports he liked to play.

  “Your daughter sounds so cute,” Anoria gushed when he told her about Lily. “Do you have any pictures of her?”

  He patted his shirt pocket and found it empty. “Yeah, but I don’t have my phone with me.”

  “I can’t believe it’s already been nine years since we moved away,” Anoria said. “I was only twelve.”

  Okay, she wanted him to know how old she was. “Is it weird being back?” he asked, forcing his eyes away from Cynthia, who walked several feet ahead of them.

  Anoria shrugged. “Yes and no. I loved the farm, but it’s changed so much now that it doesn’t feel like coming home.” She skirted a large rock. “What about you? Did you grow up here?”

  Colby shook his head. “My family is from Billings.”

  “When did you graduate from high school?”

  Okay, she wanted to know how old he was. “A long time ago,” he said.

  “C’mon, you can’t be that much older than me,” Anoria prodded. “You’re what, twenty-nine or so?”

  “A little older,” he hedged. He was actually thirty-four and didn’t want to give Anoria any encouragement.

  For about the hundredth time, he marveled that Cynthia could have a daughter as old as Anoria. She certainly didn’t look it. Not like her sister, Lisa, who was firmly planted in a middle-aged-mom vein. Lisa’s calf-length skirt and long cardigan did little to conceal the extra pounds she carried, but beyond her physical appearance, she had none of the vibrancy he sensed pouring off of her sister in waves.

  Colby was grateful when they reached the ridge and further conversation with Anoria was cut short. Cynthia’s instincts were perfect. The canyon spread out beneath them, the early greens of spring mixing with the browns and grays of the land. The Diamond A ranch was neatly laid out and Colby let his gaze drift over the miles of lodge pole pine fence he and Wade had laboriously installed. Beyond the gentle curve of the sagebrush-covered hills, the roofs of Snow Valley could be seen, surmounted by the church steeple. Across the expanse of the valley, the distant mountain peaks were still topped with snow.

  A gentle breeze ruffled Cynthia’s blond hair as she stood beside Pastor John. Her eyes were already wet with tears and Colby wished he had a handkerchief to offer her. Lisa dug in her purse and produced a small package of tissues, which she passed to Cynthia.

  Pastor John cleared his throat and bowed his head. He offered a brief, but sincere prayer, thanking the Lord for Lee Eddington’s life and asking a blessing for his family. Colby silently echoed the thought. They’d been through enough.

  After the prayer, Cynthia motioned for her children to join her. Together, they worked the stopper from the urn, then turned to face the valley. Everyone grew quiet as the three of them stood close together, as if drawing strength from one another. Finally, Cynthia tipped the urn and the ashes spilled out, caught the breeze, and whirled away.

  She dabbed at tears on her cheeks and gave them all a watery smile. “This is where he wanted to be,” she said softly. “Now he’s at peace.”

  Lisa nodded and stepped up to put her arm around Cynthia. The reverent silence continued as the group made their way back to the cars. Lisa’s family was the first to leave.

  “It’s good to see you, Colby,” Pastor John said. “I’d hoped to see you earlier today.” He gave Colby a meaningful look.

  Colby had never been one for organized religion, but he liked Pastor John and his quiet, unassuming ways. “We’ll see,” he hedged, grinning a bit sheepishly.

  Pastor John was not fooled. He chuckled and clapped Colby on the back. “That’s good enough for me.”

  After Pastor John left, Colby turned to Cynthia and the kids. “Do you want to come in for a little while, have a soda?” he offered, nodding toward his apartment over the stable.

  Cynthia’s eyes were still wet with tears. She smiled and touched his elbow. “We should get going. Thank you so much for all your help.”

  He’d made a few phone calls, hardly worth such heartfelt thanks. If they were in an old western, this would be the perfect moment for Colby to scuff his boot and drawl, “Shucks, ma’am, t’weren’t nuthin’.” But he wasn’t feeling at all flippant. Besides the fact that they’d just come from her husband’s memorial service, Cynthia’s hand on his elbow sent warmth spreading through him, and the urge to wrap his arms around her slender shoulders was almost overwhelming. Instead, he had to settle for a smile. “Anytime.”

  “Bye, Colby; text me some time,” Anoria called as she got into the car, earning an eye roll from Jackson. Colby grinned, rememberi
ng his own scuffles with his four siblings. They could be a major pain in the rear, but he wouldn’t give them up for anything.

  Cynthia gave him a small wave as she slid behind the wheel. Colby lifted his hand in farewell and stood watching them until they were down the hill and she’d made the turn onto the main road.

  Chapter 5

  The memorial brought Cynthia some closure and a sense of relief. She’d paid her debt to Lee and honored his memory. It was time to move on.

  But move on to what?

  She settled into a routine of working at the hospital and spending her free time at home with her children or at Lisa’s. Jackson still hadn’t decided if he would return to Kennewick for school and Cynthia was trying not to think about it. Aiden Bauer was in the same grade at school and the boys seemed to hit it off, giving Cynthia hope. Maybe Jackson would decide to stay in Snow Valley after all.

  Anoria, on the other hand, had started dropping hints that she might like to stay as well. Cynthia didn’t need to look far to figure out her reasons.

  “No duh she wants to stay; she has a huge crush on Colby,” Jackson said one night when they’d been arguing for over an hour.

  “I do not, you worm,” Anoria grated, throwing him a dirty look.

  Cynthia took a careful breath. For Anoria’s sake, she’d firmly resisted any daydreams about Colby Schroder, hoping the whole thing would go away once Anoria was back in school. “He’s too old for you,” she said as gently as possible.

  “He’s thirty-four,” Anoria retorted. “That’s not too old.”

  “Thirteen years is a lifetime at your age,” Cynthia said. She didn’t know how Anoria had come by the knowledge of Colby’s age. Probably through Lisa. Or maybe Anoria and Colby were texting one another. Her stomach tightened at the thought.

  “It’s not that big of an age difference,” Anoria said stubbornly. “I don’t see what the big deal is.”

  Cynthia set her jaw. “You’re an adult and I know I can’t tell you what to do. But I’m still your mother and I think it’s inappropriate.”

  Anoria sat in sullen silence.

  “Plus he’s been married and has a child,” Cynthia added. “There’s a huge experience gap between you, as well as an age gap.”

  “Okay, Mom, you’ve made your point.” Anoria jumped to her feet and stormed out of the room. A few seconds later, they heard her bedroom door slam.

  Jackson shrugged and went back to his video game while Cynthia stewed in helpless silence. These were the times she missed Lee the most—when there was a problem with one of the kids and she had to work it out on her own. Maybe they hadn’t been as close as she’d have liked, but Lee was a good father and she missed having someone to confide in.

  ***

  A few days later, Cynthia wandered the aisles of Dove’s, searching for inspiration for dinner. Anoria and Jackson were riding horses with their cousins and were planning to stay at Lisa’s for dinner. Cynthia was invited, but she’d been at work all day and was looking forward to some quiet time. Still, the prospect of fixing dinner for one was not appealing.

  She stood in the noodle aisle, trying to decide between chicken or beef-flavored ramen, when someone came around the corner. It was Colby.

  Her nerves snapped to attention.

  He’d been clean shaven the last time she saw him—the day of Lee’s memorial—but today his jaw was shadowed with dark stubble and Cynthia found the rugged look suited him better ... as did his worn cowboy boots, faded jeans, and long-sleeved gray button down with the Diamond A brand embroidered on the pocket.

  His face broke into a smile and he stopped his cart next to hers. “I’ve been thinking about you. How are you doing?”

  His eyes were warm and sparkling; someone could get lost in those emerald depths. Suddenly she wished she’d taken the clip from her hair before she left work, and that her scrubs weren’t quite so loose.

  No, stop it! What was she doing? He was way too young for her, and Anoria liked him besides, and even though Cynthia didn’t approve of Anoria dating him ... Wait. Was her disapproval because of the age gap, or something else?

  He looked at her with amused curiosity, and heat flooded her face when she realized she was standing there staring at him.

  “Hi ... well,” she managed. “I mean ... I’ve been doing well. Thank you for asking.”

  “Just got off work?” His gaze took in her scrubs. “How’s that going? Are you settling in?”

  She nodded. “Everyone at the hospital is great and I love the patients. I’m surprised at how many I don’t know, though. Things have changed a lot since we left.”

  He leaned forward, resting his forearms on the handle of his cart. “Yeah. The valley is growing a lot, unfortunately.”

  “You don’t approve, then?”

  Colby shrugged. “People have to live somewhere, right? I mean, I’m relatively new here too, so I can’t really complain. It just makes me sad to see the fields torn up for housing developments.” He straightened and jerked his head up the aisle. “Walk?”

  They strolled side by side, and he answered her questions, giving her a brief history of growing up, getting married, having a daughter, then getting divorced.

  “Things were rickety before, but after I got the job with Wade, it really went downhill,” he said.

  “Why?” Cynthia couldn’t help asking.

  “Nicole didn’t want to live in the middle of nowhere and didn’t want Lily growing up on a farm.”

  Cynthia’s mind went back to her own days on the farm. Her children had spent their free time roaming the hills and playing with the animals, not parked in front of the TV or on their phones like they did now. What wouldn’t she give to have granted them those nine extra years on a two-hundred-acre farm in Snow Valley?

  But it wasn’t her business. “You must miss your daughter,” she said quietly.

  Colby heaved a sigh. “I do,” he said, his voice laced with pain.

  Cynthia thought he’d leave her once he got to the end of his story, but he seemed content to meander through the store at her side as if he had all the time in the world—which, maybe, he did. Like her, he didn’t appear to have anywhere else to be tonight. The thought of Colby spending his evenings alone made her heart twist.

  “Excuse me.” He reached past her to pluck a package of slivered almonds from the shelf. His arm brushed against hers, sending shivers racing through her body.

  To distract herself from his nearness, Cynthia dropped her eyes and surveyed the contents of his cart—the almonds, lasagna noodles, bacon, feta cheese, tomatoes, apples, peppers, a package of chicken, a carton of buttermilk, and a bottle of balsamic vinegar. This wasn’t bachelor food. “Do you cook?” she asked with surprise. She’d never known a man who cooked before. Her father certainly hadn’t and the best Lee could manage was scrambled eggs in an emergency.

  “Yes, actually,” Colby said. “One can only handle so much frozen pizza. So I started cooking.”

  “What are you planning to make with all this?” She gestured to his cart.

  “Bacon-wrapped, almond-crusted chicken with buttermilk balsamic dressing and bitter greens,” he replied.

  “Wow.” Cynthia said, impressed. “Sounds delicious.”

  “It is,” Colby replied. “Would you like to come for dinner?”

  She thought he was joking until she saw the look in his eyes—warm and open, twinkling with fun and something else ... attraction? “I ... I’d better not,” she stammered.

  “Why not?” he asked softly.

  Her heart raced and her throat was tight. So she hadn’t been imagining the connection.

  So, why not? Because he was too young for her ... because she needed to concentrate on earning a living ... because her daughter had a crush on him ... there were a lot of reasons why not.

  “I can’t,” she said.

  His face fell and he glanced at the ramen in her basket. “Okay,” he finally said. “If you change your mind, give me a call.�
� He turned his cart toward the checkout lanes at the front of the store.

  “Colby!” The word was out before she could stop it.

  “What?” His eyes burned into hers.

  “Thanks,” she managed.

  “No problem.” He smiled and disappeared around the corner toward the checkout lanes while Cynthia retreated to the back of the store to hide out with the lunch meat until she was sure he’d gone.

  Chapter 6

  Cynthia walked by Madame Dubois’s dance studio every day on her way to and from work. One afternoon, she finally gave in to the pull of nostalgia.

  The bell on the door was the same, the familiar tinkling brought an ache of longing to Cynthia’s heart. The carpet in the lobby was different, but beyond that, not much had changed—still the same white cinderblock walls hung with poster-sized pictures of each of Madame Dubois’s dance classes.

  “Cynthia Eddington?” Madame Dubois emerged from her office, smiling. She took off her reading glasses and propped them on her head, then stretched her arms out wide.

  “It’s so good to see you again,” Cynthia said as they shared a hug.

  They took a moment to study the pictures on the walls while Madame Dubois brought Cynthia up to date. “Katie Monroe ... well, now she’s Katie Snow ... is teaching my youngest classes,” she said.

  “She’s married?” Cynthia remembered Katie, thin and shy, her skinny legs trembling as she worked to balance on her brand-new pointe shoes. She’d been twelve when Cynthia taught her class, which would make her twenty-one now, the same age as Anoria.

  “Married and expecting,” Madame Dubois said. “She married Jeff, Frank and Marina’s youngest boy, last year.”

  Cynthia had gone to school with Jeff’s older sister, Melodee, and barely remembered Jeff. He’d been a kid. She shook her head. How did time move so fast?

  “And of course you’ve heard about Jessica.” Madame Dubois led her to a corner where several framed pictures of Jessica Mason hung. These were not mere portraits, but rather professional dance photos—Jessica on stage in an elaborate costume performing an arabesque on pointe; in a tutu in the French Quarter of New Orleans; and a dramatic black-and-white shot where she wore only a bodysuit, her long limbs stretched into impossible positions.